


The Newcomer of Kattegat

by Minjae_Lee_9395



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Drinking, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gore, Intersex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Raids, Rough Sex, Threesome, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, exaggeratedideasofanintersexperson, mentionofrape, takingturns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minjae_Lee_9395/pseuds/Minjae_Lee_9395
Relationships: Bjorn (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Bjorn/Halfdan the Black, Lagertha (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Ragnar Lothbrok/Original Character(s), Ubbe (Vikings)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. The Stranger in Kattegat

“Father!”

Ragnar’s attention immediately focuses on the voice of his son Hvitserk who has burst through the doors to the great hall. The tone in his son’s voice causes him to tense up. “What is it, Hvitserk?’

Hvitserk is followed inside by Sigurd and Ivar. “Sigurd, Ivar, and I stumbled across a stranger in the woods. We were on our way to train and there they were. Touching our weapons. We nearly got into a fight.”

“The stranger would not speak to us. They refused to answer our questions and ran off. They vanished.” Sigurd admits in an almost defeated tone.

“I say we should make a plan to capture this intruder.” Ivar always wants to plan for someone’s demise. 

Ragnar gets up from his throne to approach his sons. “Did this stranger seem like a threat?”

The three brothers look between each other to gauge each other’s silent opinion.

“I am not sure, Father.” Hvitserk is the first to speak up. “They would have fought us. Tried to kill us if they were dangerous.”

“They were outnumbered. There is no way that the intruder would have succeeded. After all, we are the sons of Ragnar.” Ivar, so smug and absolute about his words.

Ragnar processes the information as he circles his sons. “Go fetch Bjorn and Ubbe. We will discuss this further with them.”

“Sigurd,” Hvitserk says as he turns to go back out of the doors of the great hall.

“Of course, leave the cripple out of this time-sensitive matter.” Ivar sneers. 

Hvitserk and Sigurd are gone by the time he finishes his sarcastic remark. He angrily inhales and grimaces before crawling to his favorite spot by the tables. “Drink!” He demands after he settles himself into the seat. Aslaug’s slave is quick to fulfill his demand. 

Hvitserk and Sigurd find Ubbe and Bjorn by the docks. Their older brothers were preparing the ships for a raid.

“Ubbe. Bjorn. We came across a stranger in the woods at our training camp. Father wants us to talk about what we should do next.” Hvitserk quickly explains.

The eldest two look to each other, then to their younger brothers. They are immediately concerned and stop what they are doing to follow them back to the great hall. By the time the four brothers reach the middle of town, they sense a shift in the atmosphere. They instinctively ready themselves for what waits ahead. 

A few steps further they notice a cloaked figure standing a few feet away from the entrance of the great hall. Ragnar is standing just outside of the door with Ivar sitting on the floor beside him. 

“Hvitserk, that is the person that was at our camp. Was it not?” Sigurd says in a hushed voice, not wanting to alert the stranger.

Hvitserk nods in agreement. He then elbows Ubbe, who was to his left, and jerks his head toward the direction of the person standing in front of Ragnar and nods his head. 

“Bjorn.” Ubbe quietly calls out. He copies Hvitserk’s motions once he’s gotten Bjorn’s attention.

Bjorn nods and motions for all of them to spread out. They need to be ready to protect their father, their king. 

Ragnar feels apprehensive, but his voice and body movements contradict his true feelings. He studies the person in front of him but he cannot make out much because of the size of the hooded cloak. Their body is swallowed and their face is hidden.

“You must be the stranger my sons warned me of. The one in the woods.”

The town of Kattegat is void of any sound as everyone carefully watches on.

“Yes.” The stranger’s voice is soft and calm. “I do not intend harm. I am just a wanderer that happened upon their training camp.”

Ragnar is taken aback by this voice. His head tilts to the side. “Remove the hood.”

Delicate hands with slender fingers sprout from the sleeves of the cloak to remove the hood. It seems to be moving painfully slow for all of the onlookers. Soon enough some of the stranger’s features are visible. Hair as black as war paint is partially matted into small locs that hide inside of the cloak. Nothing else can be seen from behind the stranger, but it is clear to see that their head is tilted forward, eyes trained to the ground. 

Ragnar and Ivar have the best view. The stranger’s skin is nearly as pale as snow. And it seems obvious, to them, that this stranger is a woman and is about the same height as Hvitserk. Still, their eyes have yet to meet. This strikes Ragnar as odd. He feels bold and takes a few steps closer to this person. The four sons have also taken a few steps closer with their weapons in hand. Ivar chooses to stay put, leaning against the entryway.

“You are aware that I am the king of this town. King Ragnar of Kattegat. Why do you avoid looking at me?”

The stranger takes a moment to breathe and think of the proper thing to say. They decide on the truth. The truth that they know. “I do not mean to disrespect you, king. It’s my eyes. I do not wish to frighten anyone.”

Ragnar laughs. It’s an honest one. He smiles in disbelief. “We are a town full of warriors. We, I do not scare easily.” 

The stranger says nothing and still refuses to look up. Ragnar closes the gap between them. He places his right hand under their chin and roughly tilts their head up. Ragnar is frozen. He cannot move nor look away. His face changes from annoyed and determined to something much softer. It seems like he is lost in their eyes and cannot find his way back. His mouth parts slightly, becoming dry. Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd are confused and concerned. Ivar looks exactly like Ragnar, lost in something deep. 

“Father!” Bjorn shouts out. “What is it?”

Ragnar is snapped out of his trance-like state. “Those eyes. What are you?”

The four sons that hold weapons are now placing them back into their holsters. They carefully make their way to Ragnar and Ivar. 

“I am only human.”

The four men see those eyes and are seemingly stuck in a trance-like state as well. 

The eyes of this stranger, a mixed set. The right eye is as black as the hair that drapes their shoulders. The left eye is the color of ice. The black of the pupil seems to bleed through in the thinnest of strips throughout the iciness. It looks as though a black sun was placed in the center of that eye. It was breath-taking and worthy of every reaction given.

The stranger broke eye contact with the king and all of his sons as the shame started to settle. The men finally blink and shake their heads. They all exchange glances with each other and left completely speechless. After what feels like an eternity, the king suggests that he, his sons, and the stranger enter the great hall. This leaves the townfolk left wanting for they do not understand what has happened to the king and his sons. 

Once inside, the doors are closed and secured behind them. Ragnar has ordered the slaves to fill cups with ale. His sons have taken seats around the table and the stranger chooses to stand at a distance. All eyes are still on the stranger before them. Ragnar approaches the stranger and silently removes the absurdly large cloak from around them. Ragnar then walks to one of the slaves to exchange the cloak for two cups of ale. He approaches the stranger again and extends his arm.

“Thank you.” They take a sip and roll this foreign flavor over their tongue. “What is this strange water?”

There is a sudden burst of laughter that echoes throughout the hall. The stranger’s head tilts to the side from confusion.

“This is not water. This is ale.” Ubbe speaks up. 

His voice surprises the stranger and unexpectedly grips their insides. Thankfully, Ragnar had already removed their cloak. The temperature in the hall has suddenly spiked up.

“It is something we drink during a celebration or other major events.” Ubbe continues.

The stranger watches his mouth as he speaks. His lips, from what can be seen from underneath his facial hair, are full and set into a slight pout. The mixed set of eyes travel up his face to his bright blues. They certainly do not match the iciness of the stranger’s, but it is still an impressive shade of blue. Ubbe stirs something deep within the stranger, and this feeling is more foreign than the drink. 

“What is it that we are celebrating?” The stranger asks.

“Your arrival, of course,” Ragnar answers, though he is not sure if this arrival is fated to be good or bad. “So, tell me, what is your name? Where are you from?”


	2. The Wanderer, The Royals, and The Companions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that the wanderer sings is from the remake of a Nordic Lullaby called The Wolf Song.
> 
> https://youtu.be/KTmatjyd4KM (just copy and paste into a search engine!)
> 
> I only referenced the bit that I liked the most. Still, I do like this song.

The stranger feels shame once again and looks into the cup before gulping down the rest of the ale. “I do not have a name. I only introduce myself as a wanderer.” The wanderer is met with silence as the men drink their ale. “I was abandoned and left to die in the woods because of my deformities. I was very young and memories of my life before are sparse. I live in the woods and travel within the woods,” there is hesitation for the next part. “With my companions.” 

There is an obvious shift in the room.

“I knew it. I told you we should’ve captured this intruder.” Ivar spits out and slams his cup onto the table. 

Every occupant in the room becomes tense. 

“What do you mean companions?” Asks Bjorn. There is a hint of aggression in his voice. 

The wanderer does not feel safe anymore, so they try to keep things rational and civil. “Let me show you. Please. I meant it when I said I do not intend harm.” 

“Father, you must not believe this. This is a trap.” Ivar tries to win his father over.

“Hvitserk. Sigurd. Did you see anyone else in the woods?”

Both men mentioned look at each other and shake their heads. “No, father. We did not see anyone else out there.” Sigurd answers. 

“We scattered into the woods and found no trace of this one or anybody else,” Hvitserk admits.

Ragnar slowly nods. “Bjorn. Ubbe. What do you think?’

“I say we follow to meet these companions,” Ubbe answers honestly as he looks into his cup. “How many are there?” He continues.

“Eight.” The wanderer answers without hesitation.

“We are outnumbered,” Bjorn warns. 

Ragnar finishes his ale and slams the cup on the table. “Sons, let us meet these companions.” 

Ivar spits in the stranger’s direction. “No. I will not willingly walk into a trap.” He slides down to the floor and crawls to the steps leading up to the thrones. 

Ragnar flashes him a look of disapproval, then focuses his attention on the wanderer. “I will have your head if you try to trick us.”

This newcomer has no idea what these men and the town of Kattegat have been through. The level of trust that is being afforded to this person comes with high risks. The wanderer nods in understanding. For they too have encountered many evils in life. 

The wanderer walks to the slave that holds the cloak. And, as men do, they study the frame that crosses the room. Form-fitting brown trousers and a cream-colored tunic that clings nicely against their chest and abdomen. The length of their black locs are now visible and well past their rear end. It’s clear to see that, beneath the clothes and the massive amount of hair, this person is shapely and lean. This is the body of someone who is constantly active and healthy. But, there is something a bit strange about their presence. The chest is absent of two bouncing mounds. They seem to be flattened by some type of cloth. Nothing about this person seems to be extremely feminine nor masculine. Even so, it would be silly to deny the fact that this stranger is absolutely captivating. The wanderer is none the wiser about the stares from the men because the current focus is the meeting that will take place shortly. 

The cloak drowns the shapely, lean frame again but the hood is left hanging on the back. This time all of the townfolk get a good look at the newcomer’s face. Sharp inhales, gasps, and murmuring can be heard within the sea of bodies as they pass.

“Why are we leaving town? Where do you have these companions hiding?” Bjorn spits out. His patience is thinning with each step they take outside of town. 

“We will walk to the entrance of the woods. I will call for them and then we wait.” The wanderer explains as the group marches on. 

The sun is close to setting when they reach the beginning of the woods. The tension could be cut with the knife. Bjorn reaches for his ax as he looks ahead. Ubbe stares at the wanderer with his intense blue eyes but quickly averts his gaze once Ragnar stands beside the wanderer. Hvitserk and Sigurd walk away from the group in opposite directions to scan the woods further. 

“Call them.” Ragnar calmly demands as he scans the wanderer up and down.

“I will. But, there are some things that I need all of you to do.” The wanderer is met with annoyance. “Promise me all of you will remain calm. Keep your weapons sheathed, do not make direct eye contact and, when I tell you, you must crouch down.”

“What the hell the kind of game are you playing? I will not make myself vulnerable for strangers in the night!” Bjorn has finally lost his cool.

“I understand the position I have put all of you in. But I cannot promise you that I will be able to intervene if anything were to happen because you refused to listen to me.” The wanderer’s tone is soft but firm. There is such intensity in those mixed eyes. “I ask that you trust me, or at the very least remain calm the entire time.”

Ragnar speaks up. “Fine. Call them.”

The wanderer looks around at the men once more before calling out into the woods. The sounds that leave the wanderer’s mouth is nothing short of a soothing melody. 

The wolf is howling in the forest of the night,  
Howling out of hunger and moaning.  
But I will give him a pig’s tail,  
Which suits a wolven stomach

The royals are in awe at the sight before them. Bjorn slowly sheathes his weapon and forces his nerves to settle. The two youngest are fighting to avert their gaze. Ragnar’s eyes are wide and he is truly speechless. 

Ubbe is not focused on the pack of wolves that cautiously make their way to them. Instead, he has transfixed on the wanderer again. The soothing voice just adds to the beauty and mystery that is them. 

The pack greets the wanderer one by one as the sweet melody floats in the air around them. This is the first time the wanderer is caught smiling and it sends another punch to Ubbe’s insides. 

“Hello, my precious companions. I have brought friends for you to meet.” 

The alpha slowly approaches the men and easily picks out their alpha, King Ragnar. The wanderer walks beside the alpha wolf and softly explains who each man is.

“This is King Ragnar. He has shown me much respect since my arrival and has offered his trust to me. King, please slowly crouch to the ground and no direct eye contact.” The wanderer calmly instructs.

Ragnar does not hesitate to follow the rules because this is a situation that is beyond his imagination. He tries his best to remain calm and to make no sudden movements as the alpha wolf circles him and sniffs. The alpha moves on. Ragnar stays put as he sees the other wolves inching closer. The princes follow exactly the actions of their father.

“This is Bjorn. He is one of King Ragnar’s sons. He has also gifted me with his trust.” The wanderer says as a way of showing appreciation for Bjorn’s cooperation. The alpha encircles him, sniffs, and moves on to the next man. “This is Ubbe. Another of King Ragnar’s sons. This is Hvitserk. King Ragnar’s son. And this Is Sigurd. Also, King Ragnar’s son.”

The alpha and the wanderer walk back to King Ragnar. The wanderer stands aside as the alpha decides their fates. It feels like an eternity has passed before the alpha decides to accept them. He rubs himself against the king. Ranger is caught off guard by the strength of this simple motion. It is at this moment that he is grateful for listening. The rest of the pack finally approach and take turns to rub each of their scents onto their new allies. 

The wanderer is filled with such joy at the sight of this new alliance they cannot help but cry out with a howl that sounds exactly like a wolf. Soon enough the pack follows suit, each harmonizing with another.

The wanderer is smiling so brightly at the men. “Come on! You have to join us!” 

The sky is filled with harmonizing howls from the wolves and the humans.


	3. The Wanderer and Ubbe

“That was like a crazy dream!” Sigurd says with shocked excitement. “Brothers, father, did that just happen?” 

He is in disbelief as he playfully slaps his hands onto the top of Hvitserk’s shoulders. Hvitserk just shakes his head as a small smile grows across his face. The two of them walk off ahead of everyone, play-fighting as they do. 

Bjorn is shaken by this encounter. He was not expecting to be approached by a pack of wolves. He was sure they would have been met with yet another gruesome fight. What is there to say after witnessing such power and strength? He is stuck in place and ultimately decides to wait for Ragnar and Ubbe before exiting the woods. 

The king is standing beside the wanderer still watching the pack. Wolves are bigger than he had thought. Then again he had only seen them from a distance. He feels a delicate hand on his right shoulder and he turns his head toward the hand.

“King Ragnar, this is worth celebrating. I will admit that I was filled with some doubt because of Bjorn. But I am filled with such joy.” They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, smiling. The wanderer gently squeezes Ragnar’s shoulder. “Go ahead without me.”

“What do you mean without you? We did all of this just for you to disappear again?” Ubbe, who is standing directly in front of the pair, spits out.

The wanderer and Ragnar’s moment is cut short by the sudden accusation. Why did he sound so upset? The king knows that this was a strange thing for his son to say to someone they do not really know. 

“Ubbe,” The wanderer says softly. “I am not disappearing again. I am going to see my companions off before I return to Kattegat.” They look into each other’s eyes to gauge their emotions. The wanderer offers him a genuine smile. “I have been led to Kattegat for a reason. I intend to fulfill whatever my purpose may be.”

Ragnar nods in agreement. “Ubbe, nothing has happened for us to have doubts now. If you do not believe these words, then stay here with our newcomer. Watch and listen if you must. Bjorn and I will go back now.” He redirects his attention to the person beside him. “I will see to it that a proper feast is prepared for a real celebration tonight.” He leaves them and walks out of the woods with Bjorn.

Ubbe watches every move the wanderer makes and he does listen to each word carefully, searching for any hidden messages. But everything kills his doubts. The wanderer simply wishes the furry companions safety during their travels. Each one of them approaches for affection before disappearing into the woods. 

Their journey back to Kattegat was mostly silent with random glances that did not go unnoticed by one another. The air surrounding them thick and cannot be defined by specific words or simple actions. This is too much for the wanderer to bear.

“Tell me, Ubbe. What is it like to be the son of a king?”

Ubbe likes the way his name sounds coming from their mouth. “There is a lot of pressure to be as famous as my father. To be a good warrior like him, or better. Although I live under many shadows it does not bother me.” He dares to look beside him. 

Their eyes meet. He wishes he can understand the feelings that come from looking into those miraculous eyes. It is like he is looking into the darkest of night and the brightest of days at once. Those genuine, expressive eyes. There is something hidden beneath them. Pain, possibly. But then how is this person so gentle and trusting of strangers? Ubbe eventually realizes that they had stopped walking and that he had been staring into their eyes the entire time. Had he even blinked?

The wanderer feels more vulnerable than before. “Ubbe.”

He finally blinks and inhales shakily. He cannot meet their eyes again, not yet.

The distance between them is shortened. The wanderer has to look up in order to meet Ubbe’s eyes again. “What do you see when you look into my eyes? All of you, when you look at me, it feels as though I am far away even when you stand close.”

Ubbe tries to be as honest as he can. “Your eyes, there is such depth. It is like you have seen it all; the past, the present, and the future. Happiness and torment. It is easy to get lost trying to figure it out.”

How is someone supposed to accept this admission? 

“Does it frighten you?” There is worry laced in this question. 

“Yes.” He breathes out defeatedly. “But only a little.”

There is an obvious shift in the wanderer’s mood. Despondent, at first. Their life has been met with only harm and rejection, but the king is not turning them away. Their head drops down to look at their feet while a moment of silence passes before the next shift happens. 

“Well, maybe I should wear an eye patch then.” The wanderer looks up at Ubbe again. “Which eye should I cover. This one or this one?” They say playfully as a hand covers the right eye and then the left.

Ubbe’s stomach flips when he hears the wanderer laughing. He laughs in return as he pushes the hand away from his favorite eye: the icy blue one with the dark sun in the center. “Do not cover either of them.” They share a gentle smile after the silliness fades. “Come on. We are nearly there.”


	4. The Secret Exposed

By the time they reach Kattegat tonight’s celebration is in full swing. Ubbe and the wanderer snake their way through the crowd of participants to the great hall. Somehow cups of ale appear into their hands. 

“Ah! There they are!” King Ragnar shouts. He is drunk and his words are slurred. “Come, my new friend! I have good news to share and there are people you must meet.” 

The newcomer looks nervously at Ubbe. He laughs and nods as a way of reassuring them. He chugs his drink, then walks behind the wanderer. He stands painfully close behind them as he wraps his arms around their’s and across their chest to unlace the cloak and remove it. His closeness and the warmth of his breath ghosting their neck causes goosebumps to sprout. All of this happens in a matter of seconds but it felt much longer. The wanderer responds to both Ubbe and Ragnar by chugging their drink and nodding. 

The king offers a huge smile as he throws his arm around the back of their neck. “This is Floki.” He says as they stop in front of a tall, lanky man with dark lines drawn under his eyes. “And this is my brother Rollo.” This man is considerably taller and muscular than Floki. His long brown hair lay over his shoulder and past his chest. “Floki, Rollo. This is the newcomer we’ve been telling you about.

The wanderer silently remains underneath the king’s arm. The men are quiet as they look into those eyes. Rollo looks curious but unfazed. Floki, on the other hand, walks closer and bends down, Their face are mere centimeters apart. Neither the wanderer nor Floki back away or blink.

“The gods have bestowed many tragedies upon you, haven’t they. You...have suffered greatly.” He states confidently. “Unfortunately, all of it has only been the beginning of your life of suffering.” 

The wanderer is not put off by these words. All Floki has done is spoken out their hidden thoughts. 

“Floki, what are you saying?” Ragnar is laughing. For as long as he has known this man he has been labeled as crazy. He just sums up this interaction as just that. Crazy. 

“Floki is right. He speaks what is always on my mind. It is alright.” The wanderer admits. “It is nice to meet you, Floki.” 

Floki just walks away and sits back at the table with Ragnar’s other sons. 

“Rollo,” says the wanderer. They share nod to each other.

“Hah! This is great. “I thought this would turn into a bloody fight.” Ragnar is still dragging the wanderer along. He leans into their ear. “Now, as to the good news, I have thought of a name for you. Would you like to hear it?”

This catches the wanderer by surprise. “A name? For me?”

Ragnar eagerly nods. “Yes! The experience you gave me today. It inspired me.”

The wanderer is skeptical and looks at the king with such confusion. 

“Ylva!” He brandishes his arm as though he has offered the greatest idea.

“Ylva? What does that mean?”

“She-wolf.” He continues to smile.

The wanderer is immediately alarmed. They are worried that everyone can hear this conversation. Out of panic, they grab Ragnar’s arm and hastily drag him to the back of the great hall. This sudden action catches the attention of Bjorn, Ubbe, Floki, and Rollo. None of the men realize that they all get up at the same time to follow Ragnar and the newcomer. They all make their way enough to eavesdrop. 

“King...I am grateful that you have thought of a name for me. It means the world to me that I am worth the thought. But, I have to kindly refuse that name.” The wander says in a hushed sincere tone. 

“What? I do not understand. It is a good name.” Ragnar sounds upset. Similar to a child who has been told that they are not allowed to play with other children. 

“No, no. It is a wonderful name, King. I just think that the name, She-wolf, is not fitting for me.” The newcomer is panicking and feels guilty for denying the kind gesture of the king. “What I mean is...that...I am,” extreme panic is surfacing. What will happen once the king knows the truth? 

Ragnar just stares at them, swaying from the effects of the ale. 

“Ragnar, I am not a complete woman.” The words are rushed out and come out louder than they were supposed to. 

Ragnar’s face twists into utter confusion. “What? This is no time for tricks.” He spits out, words still slurred.

“This is not a trick. I am not a woman nor am I a man.”

“What kind of riddle…? I need another drink. Wait here.” Ragnar zig-zags away to find a servant or a jug of ale, whichever he stumbled upon first. “Sons, brother, Floki. Have you been listening to our private conversation? It does not matter.” He waves off. “Might as well join us. Find seats. Get comfortable. I will fetch us more ale.”

The men quietly do as they are told. It would be a lie if they denied the embarrassment they currently feel. All, except Floki. There are two seats to the left-front of the wanderer. Rollo and Bjorn take those seats. Ubbe and Floki stand on either side of the king’s and queen’s bed. 

The wanderer is beyond embarrassed and is currently at a loss for words. This situation has just reached a new level of difficulty and it is about to become much more awkward. 

“Here we are.” Ragnar hands the jug of ale to the newcomer first. “I think you may need most of this.” He plops down onto the edge of his bed. His eyes are fixed onto the wanderer. 

The wanderer’s temperature spikes. Their hands shake as they bring the jug of ale to their lips. Liquid dribbles down from the side of their mouth to their chin as they chug the drink. They wipe their chin dry with their free hand and hold the jug out to their left for Bjorn or Rollo to grab. Once their hand is free of the drink they take in a deep, shaky breath.

“As you all may have heard, the king wants to give me a name. Ylva. I have refused it...because...I am not a complete woman. Nor am I a man.” They are met with confusion, as expected. “My sex organs are both of a woman and a man. I cannot bear children either.”

The only things that can be felt in the room are uncomfortable silence and confusion.

“It sounds untrue. I understand. Upon my arrival, I mentioned that I was abandoned because of my deformities. I was not talking only about my eyes.” There is still silence. “I have been honest with all of you since the beginning.” The wanderer can only stand there and study the face of the men surrounding them. 

“Go on. Show us then.” Floki urges. 

“Floki!” Ubbe calls out. Though he says it for nothing. He, too, is very curious.

“It is alright.” The wanderer soothes. “I knew this would have to happen sooner or later.” Confidence oozes from this statement when, in reality, they feel fearful.

Ale is coursing through the wanderer’s body like adrenaline. Their mixed eyes travel to each man in the room as they begin to undress. Bjorn and Rollo are first. The wanderer untucks the tunic that was stuffed into the brown trousers and carefully lifts it up and over their head. It takes a minute or two to completely remove the tunic because their long black locs need to be freed from the neck of the tunic as well. The men only gulp and look on. The tunic is now on the floor beside the wanderer. Next to come off is the cloth that binds their breasts. Their slender fingers undo the leather lace of the cloth, and their lean arms easily unwrap the cloth from around their chest. The piece of cloth falls to the floor on its own. Two plump mounds bounce free. Their breasts are on the smaller side, but are full and adorned with pale pink nipples. The wanderer’s eyes meet Floki’s. He is unimpressed and egging them on with an intense staredown. 

Next, two delicate and pale feet are freed from worn-out boots. Floki still remains unimpressed and continues to wait impatiently. It is time for the trousers to come off. The wanderer takes in a sharp inhale. The jug has already been passed around and is now in the hands of Ubbe. 

The wanderer stretches out their hand toward Ubbe. “Is there any more ale?”

Ubbe is not able to speak. This current situation had not crossed his mind and he still cannot believe this is happening. He walks with shaky legs toward the wanderer, but he only gets close enough to be able to reach out to barely meet their hand. The sound of sloshing liquid confirms the occupancy of ale in the jug. Unfortunately, for the men, the jug is now empty and tossed across the room. 

The wanderer takes advantage of this newfound confidence and begins to undo their trousers, slowly at first. Undoing their leather belt and then the string that holds the trousers close as they look at Ragnar. They wiggle their hips free from the hem of the trousers and bend forward to slide them down to step out of them. They stand up again. Back straight, nipples peeking through the dark locs that slid over their shoulders and covered up their front. Ragnar’s breathing is unsteady and his eyes are glistening with wonder. They stare at each other as if they are sharing a silent conversation. He nods his head. The newcomer tosses their locs behind them. 

There stands the wanderer; completely exposed and at the mercy of the room full of men.


	5. The Wanderer and The King

This is nothing like any of these men have ever seen or heard of. How does a secret like this deserve to be received? Should this be seen as a bad omen? Surely, this is fated by the gods. 

Ragnar is filled with guilt. He should have never allowed this many eyes upon the newcomer. This is a dark secret. He cannot break his focus on the newcomer. “ Leave us. Now!”

Bjorn, Floki, and Roolo do not hesitate to leave. Floki is satisfied with what he has learned, but Bjorn and Rollo need more ale. Ubbe has not left yet. He cannot find the strength within himself to move. The thought of his father being alone with the wanderer while they are naked does not settle well with him.

“I said to leave us. Now.” Ragnar says.

Ubbe storms off and out of the great hall. He is visibly upset.

“Come to me.” The king softly demands.

The wanderer does as they are told. The ale has settled into their being and has released its magic. They feel confident walking toward the king as carnal instincts run through their veins. King Ragnar’s face is so close to their hybrid sex organ now. His warm breath can be felt on the inside of their thighs. 

“Is this a trick?” Ragnar is still in disbelief. 

The wanderer rests their hand upon his cheek. “This is not a trick. I am real. I am in front of you and I ache for attention.” The back of their hand slides across the king’s cheek, down his beard, and to his neck. 

The king feels heat traveling down between his legs. He reaches out to the person in front of him, placing his hands onto their round, plump ass, and pulls them close. Their well-defined six-pack becomes a support for his forehead. He breathes in their scent; it is so inviting. His trousers instantly tighten. 

“Do not shy away from me, My King. I can see what you want. I have done things similar to this before.” The wanderer urges Ragnar. 

Ragnar gives in. Sex is his weakness, always has been. He nuzzles his face into their inner thighs. He kisses and bites them. 

The wanderer’s head tilts back as the pleasure within grows. A small moan finds its way out. Ragnar's shirt is torn from his body before he is pushed back onto the bed. His eyes grow wide with surprise and his mouth drops open as he watches the newcomer crawl up the bed to him. Soon enough those delicate hands carefully remove everything from his bottom half. The king lays there completely naked and unmoving. He still has yet to process the predicament he has put himself in. The celebration was still in full swing. Anyone could walk back there and catch them. The king wants nothing more than to experience the body of this hybrid but his morals catch him in the middle of his wanting. He knows that things between the wanderer and Ubbe are left unspoken and unexplored. It has been obvious since their time in the woods. But Ragnar is the king. He will always have the power to experience things first. Hopefully, his son, Ubbe, will understand. 

Ragnar sits up to kiss the person that is now straddling him. Their kiss is eager and sloppy. He grips their waist tightly and grinds his hips up against them, combining their heat. The king pulls back to kiss their neck and works his way down to their chest. He catches a pale pink nipple between his lips. He kisses and sucks it until it has hardened, then circles the tightened bud with the tip of his tongue. 

The wanderer grips onto Ragnar’s shoulders. They have had many sexual experiences before but none of them have ever felt like this. “King…” They quietly call out.

Ragnar holds onto them tightly. He twists his upper body in a way that enables him to change their positions. The wanderer is now pinned under the king. He gives attention to each breast before kissing down their stomach to their hard, wet heat. Ragnar has laid with men before, so having his mouth full is not a foreign concept. He has also laid with a man and woman at the same time, too. He had to split his attention between both partners. It is as though he has prepared his whole life to experience a moment like this. 

His mouth, warm and wet, wraps around the hardened tip of the wanderer. Their length is not overwhelming but he does have some work to do. The king swirls his tongue around the tip and envelopes them into his mouth again. He pushes forward until his nose comes into contact with their pelvis. He repeats this motion a few more times until he finds the rhythm that has them writhing. 

“Oh...mm…” The wanderer is releasing combinations of sounds of pleasure, and getting choked up on sharp inhales of air in between. None of their previous sexual experiences has ever felt like this. They now understand why sex is so important to others. This realization serves as an irrational explanation for the other men that forced their way with them. “King..” Their delicate hands find their way to his bald, tattooed head and squeeze. Their nails dig into his scalp. 

Ragnar continues to lick and suck their length as he slides two fingers into their soaked opening. Their head lifts against the bed as they cry out loud enough to alert the partygoers. He takes this as a sign to fuck his fingers into them harder and faster. His mouth never parts from their hard length as he does so. He works them until they reach the first climax.

“Oh! Ragnar!” They shout as they look into Ragnar’s eyes. Their hips rock into his mouth as they ride out their high. 

Ragnar swallows every last drop of them as they release into his mouth. He wipes his mouth clean before crawling up to kiss them passionately. He is not done yet. His dick is painfully hard and throbbing. 

The wanderer has never tasted themself before. They could not deny that it is delectable especially when mixed with the taste of Ragnar’s mouth. 

Ragnar feels incredible and greedy. He swallows the wanderer’s mouth and ruts against their warmth. His body shakes from the overload of physicality and emotions. His hand slips between them to guide himself inside of them. His hips rock into them slowly at first, then faster and harder. He separates from their kissing and looks into their eyes. His rhythm slowly becomes erratic. There are no words sufficient for this moment they are sharing. His right hand finds its way to the space underneath their chin and he wraps his fingers around it with his fingers pressing into their cheeks. He leans down to kiss them again as he fucks them both into climax again. 

Tears form in their eyes and escape at the corners. “Ragnar.” They say in a tone that sends him overboard. 

Ragnar pulls back to look into their eyes again. The complexity of their gaze sends him over the edge. He vocalizes his pleasure as he stares them down.

The wanderer and Ragnar climax together and end their physical connection with a kiss that is much gentler this time. Little did they know, their entire interaction was witnessed by Ubbe.


End file.
